All Children Grow Up
by As A Ghost
Summary: All children are tasked with the hardships of growing up. Except one. Peter struggles to face the events of Wendy's growing older, while wishing time could reverse itself rather than continuing forward, always leaving him unchanged. Maybe this time London visits will have meaning. (one-shot)


**All children grow up**

* * *

Wendy shot up out of bed when she heard a thump coming from outside the window from the nursery. She knew it was Peter right away, and she threw the sheets from her body and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She ran towards the nursery window, and the heavy latch swung to the other side, unlocking the window as it instantly shot open. A gust of chilling winter air rushed its way in through the newly opened window and filled the nursery with a much needed cold. Wendy shivered a bit and rubbed her upper arm up and down with her hands to get warm. She could hear Peter moving around outside, probably on the roof of the house. How he could stand to be up there in the snow with bare feet, Wendy had no clue. She stepped onto the ledge of the windowsill, the souls of her feet screaming for her to step back inside the warm and inviting nursery, but she stood on the ledge with joy, straining her neck. She turned her head from left to right but Peter wasn't there.

"Peter?" she called for him, her long nails accidentally scraping old, white paint from the windowsill. He floated down from the roof where he had been hiding incase the figure was one of Wendy's parents, and levitated in front of Wendy, staying at the same height as she. He smiled that familiar crooked grin and held out his hand for her. Wendy stepped back and shook her head, puzzling the boy. This was the first time he'd been turned down.

"Why not?" asked Peter.

"I can't go back to Neverland Peter, mother and father would be furious with me."

"But, you don't have to stay long, you can stay for a little while if you want," Peter pleaded.

"No, I can't Peter," Wendy refused his offer. She didn't want him to be mad at her, so she began again, "but I can go flying with you, for a little while."

Peter smiled from ear to ear.

"Really?"

Wendy nodded yes, "You came all this way, let it be for something."

She smiled at him, and he held out his hand to her. She lifted off of the windowsill without a sound and floated in the air. Peter sprinkled pixie dust on her head from above as Wendy tilted her head upward, gazing at the gold trickling to fall on her hair. And soon, they were soaring above the streets of London. She laughed along side Peter as they raced to see who was faster. Peter won, but only by a little. Wendy's smile faded quickly and she stopped flying, but rather, floated with a heavy gaze on the streets still damp from yesterday's rain. Peter stopped flying, and joined at her side.

"Already?" he asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I must go home now Peter, but it was fun," Wendy said.

They flew back to the house that the Darling family accompanied, and Wendy landed back on the windowsill where she had been only an hour before. She looked up at Peter and smiled. He stayed in the sky, the same height as hers. Tinkerbell pulled on his curly, dirty blonde hair, clearly wanting to return home. Peter gave her a faint smile and waved goodbye, starting to fly in the other direction, but Wendy stopped him.

"Peter!" He turned around, almost alarmed. Wendy wore a frown on her face, one that would cause wrinkles in time. _Time_, Peter thought, the word never bothering him so much until now. "You wont forget me, will you?"

Peter paused, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Me? Forget? Never." That made Wendy smile again, and tears swelled in her eyes. She would always ask him that question before he left, and he'd always give her the same answer, 'never'.

"Goodbye Wendy," Peter said, as he lifted higher into the air and out of sight. Wendy looked to the second star to the right. As it flickered, you could hear Peter's faint laugh, and a line of shimmering pixie dust that trailed behind it. Wendy silently cried for a moment, as tears slid down her flushing cheeks. She closed the widow, and was sure to leave it unlocked. She crawled back into bed and fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Peter came knocking on the familiar window of the Darling's house. No one opened it, so he opened it instead. The room was empty, and none of the boys or Wendy was asleep in their beds. The dark room looked to be almost empty now, which confused him. The three beds that were once lined together were now spread out, with no toys or books scattering the floor. He thought it was a pity, because now, he couldn't dodge the objects like they were deadly. It was one less game to play. Peter opened the door and it let out a shameful creak as he did, giving away his position. He ventured into the hallway once no one came his way and saw a room with its door slightly opened down the hallway. He crept closer to it, the light flooding into the hall beckoning him, and peered into the room where light seeped from the crack. There was a girl in there; no it was a woman. From the back, it looked like Wendy's mother, Mary Darling. Peter's curiosity of the woman got the better of him as he opened the door just enough to squeeze inside. The door creaked under his pressure, and the woman that was standing in front of a dresser turned on her heels to see the strange boy in leaves staring back at her in disbelief.

"Peter?"

"Wendy?" Peter said, not believing his eyes. That 'woman' was Wendy, the very girl he took with him to Neverland to be the lost boys mother.

"Peter? What are you doing here?" Wendy questioned the boy. He backed away from her, unsure of what to think. She was taller than him, and she was a grown up.

"Wendy, how could you?" Peter said; he was hurt that she had gone and grown up. She had betrayed him. All of a sudden, this game wasn't fun to Peter. This make believe world he had created around Wendy came crashing down on him, and without time to react, the only feeling he had was anger.

"Not so loud, Peter," Wendy hushed in a calm voice, much like her mothers. "You'll wake Edward."

"Who's Edward?" Peter asked, and Wendy pointed to the man in the bed of the room; it was Wendy's and Edward's room. He looked back at Wendy, hot tears running down his tanned face. He shook his head back and forth.

"No," Peter stated.

Wendy walked towards him and Peter bolted out of the room and made way for the window, unwilling to let the faintest of heartbreak find him. He flew out of the house as quick as he could, and straight for the star to Neverland. What Hook had said, what had haunted his dreams after Wendy and her brothers' left, was true. It was all true. Peter was alone and unloved.

* * *

Wendy sat in the rocking chair, and hummed an old song her mother would sing to her, many years ago. Her mother had a beautiful voice and it was so relaxing. Wendy thought of her mother often since her death one year ago. She continued to hum the song as she gently grazed her hand over her rounded belly. She wanted a girl, and she had already picked a name for her, Jane. She stopped humming and looked over towards the window when she heard a slight knock, and the very faint jingle of bells. She rolled her eyes and shook her head no, it couldn't be. Peter had been gone for years. She wasn't sure why he had run off, but couldn't ask him. Wendy had been left waiting for him to come back, but had heard that noise so often, she chucked it up to her imagination. After all, Wendy had the most brilliant mind. Then, as if countering her beliefs, she heard the soft knock and bells again. Wendy got up from her rocker after a struggle to stand with how far along she was, and opened the window. The latches that once appeared large were now quite small, now that she pondered. A soft, warm summer breeze blew through the baby pink nursery, redecorated to Wendy's liking. She stuck her head out like she had years and years ago, reflecting on that farewell.

"Wendy?" a soft and childlike voice called her name. She recognized it.

"Peter, you can come in," Wendy said, as she sat back down in the rocker and resumed her humming. Peter stepped in and put two dirty feet on the white carpet that covered the nursery floor. He searched the room until he eyed Wendy in the rocking chair. He noticed she looked different, a lot different. She still had her own unique features but, her hair was longer and darker, and she was now the size of her mother, that Peter hadn't seen in a long time. Well almost all of her, except her stomach, which was very big. He stared at it in confusion and corked an eyebrow. Peter sat down on the floor cross-legged and pointed to Wendy's stomach.

"What happened, Wendy? What's wrong with your stomach?" Peter asked.

Wendy smiled, and then remembered she couldn't exactly explain to Peter how that baby had gotten in there, so she replied, "Well Peter, when a man and woman love each other very much, they decide to have a child. Right here." She pointed to her belly to serve as an example.

"There's a baby in there?" Peter asked. Wendy nodded and smiled. "Wow!" he exclaimed.

"Here," Wendy said, as she took Peter's small hand and placed it on her belly. Peter jumped slightly when he felt it kick, and looked back at Wendy. "It moved!" he said, as he smiled.

"I'm going to name her Jane," Wendy stated. Peter noticed how Wendy was humming a song, so he pulled his flutes loose from his vine belt, and played a soft tune to match Wendy's soft hums. After about an hour, Peter got up and secured the flutes back in his belt. He stood on the windowsill of the house, and turned his head back around to see Wendy in the rocking chair. He smiled, and the moonlight gave his sea green eyes a light sparkle.

"Goodbye Wendy," he said, as he left the nursery once again.

Wendy smiled and looked down at her belly. "That's Peter Pan, he's an old friend of mine; maybe you'll get to meet him some day, Jane."

* * *

"But, Wendy was never to see Peter Pan again. For all children grow up, except one." Wendy closed the hand written book and rested it on the nightstand next to her daughter's bed.

"Did she mind very much?" asked Jane.

"No, she knew he would forget; he has so many adventures." Wendy half smiled and her daughter held out the acorn Peter had once given her. "Goodnight precious," Wendy said as she leaned over and kissed Jane on the forehead. Once Jane was asleep, Wendy went and sat down by the fire and began to sew. She paused deep in thought, picking up the acorn, proof that Peter was real and it hadn't been a dream. But oh, she wished it had been. It would be easier to forget. She rubbed her index finger over the dent in the acorn; that gift had saved her life. Peter had given it to her and he would never realize how much it meant to her. She tossed the memories out of her mind, and resumed her sewing by the fireplace, until the fire was blown out, leaving her in the shadows of the nursery. She turned to look at the window, now open and letting in winter air. She didn't move as she saw Peter hesitantly enter the nursery, peering around the room for her.

"Wendy?" Peter asked, in a quiet voice.

"Hello Peter," Wendy greeted, as she stood up. She turned up the light that had been dimmed and half smiled at him. Peter wore a frown that would never so much as dare to wear his youthful features. She was so much like a woman, and she wasn't a child any more. He was forever to be a boy, and Wendy was forever to be a woman. Peter wore a hurt aura at the sight of her.

"The little girl in the bed is my daughter, Jane." Peter looked over at the bed that was being occupied by a small girl, about the age of seven. He was angry that Wendy had left; he was in denial more than anything. With time being stopped at his fingertips, Peter had forever to ponder Wendy's actions. Forever really was a long time. Days didn't seen to exist in his world, nor exciting games for that matter. Neverland was a bore nowadays to Peter, and Peter wasn't easily bored. He was angry and hurt, but couldn't bring himself to voice these feelings. He was happy, because Wendy was happy, but it wasn't enough for Peter. For someone with all of this time never to affect them, Peter wished he could stop it.

"No, she is not," Peter stated with a shaky voice.

"I tell her your stories every night before bed," Wendy resumed speaking. Peter walked over towards the small girl, and then reality set in and plummeted onto Peter like a ton of bricks. He felt tears sting at his eyes, blinking to catch the water on lashes. He took a seat on the floor and began to cry, folding his arms around his knees before sobbing. Wendy looked sympathetic towards Peter, but there was nothing she could do to reverse the acts she chose to make. Jane had woken up at the sound of the sobs, and peered over the bed railing at the boy dressed in leaves. She stared in awe at the strange boy that was the hero of the stories at bedtime that she was told.

"Boy? Why are you crying?" Jane asked, and Peter shot up and stood, wiping his eyes. He tried to stand proud and put his fists on his hips.

"I am Peter Pan," he introduced himself.

"I know, I've been waiting for you," Jane said, smiling. Peter looked over at Wendy and she nodded. Jane knew why Peter was here in her room and she stared out the window. Her eyes set on one star in particular that had shined with a rare light to it. Her mouth opened wide and she saw the horizon shine with the inviting colors of Neverland, calling to her. She grabbed the bedposts and turned to her mother eagerly.

"Mother, can I go? I so do want an adventure!" Jane exclaimed, smiling gleefully. Wendy nodded and Peter sprinkled pixie dust on her. Jane lifted into the air. She reached her small hands out to grab Peter's and he turned to smile at Wendy.

"We'll be back, with stories," Peter said, and with that they flew out of the nursery window like Peter had done many times before. He and Jane crossed the barrier between Neverland and London. Wendy ran to the opened widow and stepped out onto the windowsill and smiled as she saw the faint strip of pixie dust flow through the sky and out of sight.

* * *

"Mrs. Darling, you're going to catch your death by keeping that window open throughout rain or shine!" said Lisa; she was Wendy's nurse. Wendy refused to leave the home she spent her life in, and she wanted people to call her 'Mrs. Darling' even though her husband had been dead for years. Jane had left to pursue her education ten years ago, and had long forgotten the boy in leaves that whisked her away to Neverland, the place you never have to grow old. But Wendy had never forgotten. She would keep that blasted window open during rain, snow, sleet, or hail in hopes that the boy would one day return again. Wendy was growing older now; she was 81, very old to be exact. She lived in the nursery, not in her original room, and she would never tell Lisa why.

"I- I'm fine L- Lisa," said Wendy with an old and cracked voice. She was sitting in her rocker placed in front of the window, and she stared out of it with longing. Lisa just shook her head at the woman's reply and made up Wendy's bed.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Mrs. Darling, do try and sleep tonight, okay?" said Lisa, she worried about Wendy's health and mental state nowadays. Wendy simply nodded dumbly and resumed gently kicking her toes off the floor to keep the rocking chair going. Lisa wrapped her up in a quilt and left the house, going home for the evening. Wendy still stared out of the window at nightfall and looked upon a familiar star that shined with a light that was oh so rare. She smiled to herself and passed her hand over the cover of her hand written book. It told of all of her adventures with Peter Pan, and she never let go of the thing, not ever. Wendy drifted to sleep peacefully and then, a silent pair of feet came into the room. It was as if every time Wendy needed him, the never aging boy was soon to appear. They crept to where the old woman sat, and kneeled down beside her to see her face. Wendy felt the small hands touch her face gently as to not disturb her, and she opened her eyes slightly, revealing her baby blue orbs. They were older and held much wiser things, but they were still Wendy's blue eyes. Staring back at the old woman was a boy, about the age of thirteen, staring in curiosity at her. They were the same sea green eyes that Peter held. They were home to the soul of a child; the soul of youth.

"Hello Peter," Wendy greeted with a groggy voice.

"Wendy?" Peter asked, "Is that really you?" Wendy nodded.

"What happened to you?" Peter asked again, and Wendy spoke.

"Peter, I am an old woman now, and soon, I will leave this world. I cant live forever." It was hard to say, but Wendy knew she had to get the point across. Peter nodded, wishing to reverse time. He hadn't thought this way in many years, but the feeling stayed true. If only he had asked more often if she wanted to stay... If only he had made her feel more welcome... _Maybe I should have left Neverland_... No! What was he thinking? Leave Neverland? Peter couldn't see why he would want to leave, but as he glanced at Wendy, he heard an answer. There was so much more... but it was too late now.

"Before you go, could you tell me a story?" he asked finally, his child like voice booming in the room that was usually silent. Wendy nodded.

"Which one should I tell?" she asked, as Peter sat down on the floor crisscrossed and leaned his head of messy, dirty blond curls against Wendy's old and fragile arm.

"Can you tell the one about the prince, who couldn't find the lady? That wore glass slippers?" he asked.

"Cinderella…" Wendy said as she smiled softly; that was Peter's favorite story of hers. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Cinderella. She was a happy child with her mother and father…" Wendy began the story.

She stopped when she heard Peter's faint snores beside her, and she closed her eyes and relaxed in the rocker. "Goodnight Peter," she said, as she fell asleep.

Peter woke relaxed and refreshed, and lazily looked beside him to see the old woman in the rocker that was Wendy. He wondered what he would look like if he came to be that old. He touched her light gray hair, finding it soft, before placing a soft, attentive palm to her cheek. It was very cold and kind of hard, much unlike how he thought of Wendy. Peter had always thought high of Wendy, despite what they'd been through. Wendy was the only thing keeping him in London.

"Wendy? Wendy wake up," Peter lightly tapped her shoulder. She didn't respond right away so Peter scooted closer to her sleeping figure. "Wendy?" he questioned again, finding this very troubling.

He looked at her heavily, before swallowing a lump in his throat that he hadn't quite noticed. It seemed like for a moment, time had gotten the better of him. Peter felt tears pricking at his eyes, and blinked in order to catch them on long eye lashes, but the act only caused them to flow down is cheeks. He wiped at them with dirtied palms, air not filling his lungs properly. For the first time, Peter felt this indescribably weight on his chest. It felt like he was completely empty, and Peter knew that he had lost the one thing he could never forget, never replace, his Wendy. Tears filled his eyes relentlessly and he blinked to let them roll freely down his face, stopping at his chin, and falling to Wendy's clamped hands as she gripped her hand written book. Peter stood up slowly, gravity doing a fine job of keeping him grounded. He leaned in quickly, almost without notice, and kissed her cheek. The situation was much different now. Peter stepped away from her and walked to the windowsill, turning his head to peer at Wendy's figure in the rocking chair.

"I'll never forget you Wendy, never."

He left the Darling house.

A few hours later, Lisa came back to the house to do her chores for Mrs. Darling. She went up to the nursery and shut the window; it was freezing in that room! She let out a very tired and heavy sigh, shaking her head at how dim Mrs. Darling could act according to health.

"Mrs. Darling, you really should keep that window shut," Lisa said, but she stopped talking and really looked at Mrs. Darling after not receiving an excuse. Her eyes were shut and her hands were clamped over a book that read 'Peter Pan' in gold letters. Her hands had droplets of water on them, tears she'd never know were unearthly. Wendy's hair was decorated with tiny silver flowers; that silver flower that bloomed once a month at midnight, those flowers that gave Neverland its magic. Peter had decorated her light grey hair in stargazers. He often talked to the stars, and hoped, that Wendy was there with them.

* * *

**A/N~ The End. I hope you all liked this one-shot. It was sad, but hey, I had fun writing it! Thoughts?**


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